


the last page

by andsocanshe



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: F/M, New Year’s Eve, Post-Canon, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21906631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andsocanshe/pseuds/andsocanshe
Summary: It’s New Year’s Eve and Harvey makes a counter offer in order to distract he and Donna’s daughter. One-shot, post-series. Dedicated to Heather.
Relationships: Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	the last page

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scullymuldrs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scullymuldrs/gifts).



> Definitely not based on a soap opera ship (okay, maybe it is) but they’re Heather’s favorite and this is for her; one of the best people I know, one of the best friends that I have, hands down one of the best betas around, and part of the reason I watched Suits in the first place.
> 
> Love you, Heater Beaver!

“Was I there?” a little voice asks with a yawn, pulling Donna’s attention from the book in her hands to the little girl next to her. She’s slumped against Harvey’s chest, clad in princess pajamas with a _Happy New Year_ tiara atop her head as he flips through an old photo album in an attempt to keep her up until midnight. The event in question just so happens to be a photograph from their wedding— their first dance as husband and wife.

“No, baby, you weren’t.” Donna says softly as she leans over, fingers brushing the picture.

“Could’ve been,” Harvey chuckles, “And we just didn’t know it.”

In all fairness, he isn’t wrong. Within roughly thirty-nine weeks of being married, they _did_ have a newborn but had never quite been able to nail down the exact date that _that_ came into play. So, yes, she could have been a very early unknown attendee of their impromptu wedding but still, the glare Donna sends her husband is a warning; it’s a _don’t start something you can’t stop_ , a _don’t open a can of worms that you aren’t ready to explain to your five year old_.

“You don’t know if I was there? Did I get an invitation?” she asks anyway.

“That’s not really what Daddy meant…” Donna begins to explain, glaring at Harvey where he sits with a smirk, “Mommy and Daddy… hadn’t… made you… yet. Or we don’t know if we…”

_Well, now that did it._

The five year old seems to ponder that for a moment and Donna _knows_ what the next question out of her mouth is going to be. She knows her daughter after all; stubborn and determined like her father, intuitive and strong-willed like her mother. She’s the perfect storm of cute and chaos that is _too_ smart for her own good. Or theirs.

By the deer-in-the-headlights look on Harvey’s face, he knows it too.

Tapping her index finger on her chin, her gaze darts between her parents, “But how do you ma-“

“I have an idea,” Harvey blurts out and Donna has to fight to repress a sigh of relief, “What if Mommy and I get married again? So that you can be there.”

“Like a real wedding?” her little eyes light up, big and brown like her father’s with the grin to match.

“Well, I was thinking just the three of us. Tonight.”

She nods, climbing out of his embrace to stand up on the bed, “Yes! It can be a New Years Eve cele— celebration!”

The smile on Donna’s lips is soft when Harvey turns back to her, the look on his face full of just as much love as it had been the first time he proposed. “What do you say? Donna Roberta Paulsen- _Specter_ , will you do me the honor of ringing in the new year by marrying me _again_ tonight?”

“Say yes, say yes, Mommy!”

She gives him that _you’re an idiot_ look but leans over and kisses him, leaving a whispered, “Yes, Harvey. Yes, I will marry you. Again.” against his lips.

The littlest redhead scampers from the bedroom then, yelling something about needing to “be ready” and her parents laugh as they watch her go.

“You know you just asked me to marry you again so that you didn’t have to give our daughter the sex talk,” Donna says playfully.

Harvey shakes his head, “No, I asked you to marry me again because I would marry you a hundred times. Every day of my life, if I could. Changing the subject just happened to be a bonus.”

“You’re such a sap.”

“For you? Always,” he leans in this time, catching her lips and deepening the kiss in a way that _definitely_ wouldn’t have been suitable had a child still been in the room.

—

Half an hour later, Donna finds herself standing by the fireplace in a long red dress (“It’s _festive_ , Mommy, and you didn’t wear a white one the first time either.”), the living room now a makeshift wedding venue lined with all of their daughter’s stuffed animals— or guests, as she’d announced while perfectly placing them around the room in a way that was so meticulously her mother.

Harvey stands before the both of them, wearing _that grin_ and a tux not unlike the one he wore the night they made their vows the first time; verbally, anyway.

“Donna,” he starts and takes her hands in his, brown eyes meeting hazel with more love and adoration than she had ever expected to know, “I kept my feelings inside for so long…”

The vows made this time are the same, practically transforming the scene into that of one six years earlier. But they’re heavier now, carrying the weight of a marriage and a life they built _together_ , a solidified lifelong commitment not only to each other but to the combination of their DNA stood between them.

“That’s when I knew you were my everything,” Harvey squeezes her hands before quickly turning his gaze toward their daughter, throwing her a wink, “You too, little one. 

“I knew I could always count on you when the chips are down, I just hadn’t realized I couldn’t do without you when they were up. I’m a gambler. I always have been and I always will be. When you’re with me, my chips are always up.”

It takes everything not to pull Harvey to her then as tears settle at the corners of Donna’s eyes.

“Your turn, Mommy.”

“I know, even if it’s a hundred years, I’ll never have enough time with you,” Donna repeats the words she said years ago, eyes locked with Harvey’s for an eternity before she follows his lead and looks at the little girl with her hair, his eyes, her whit, and his smile, “Or you.

“You make me laugh. You make me cry. You _still_ make me _crazy_. But most of all, Harvey, you make me happy and you have for the last six years, the twelve before that, and longer even.”

Harvey makes a move to kiss her, one hand moving to her cheek while she leans up to meet him before the child between them exclaims, “Not yet!”

They break apart with matching smirks as she hands them the rings they had reluctantly given her just before the ceremony. 

Harvey takes Donna’s; the ring that was his grandmother’s, the ring that he carried with him because he knew she was _the one,_ and slides it back on her finger, “Without you, I’m empty.”

Donna takes Harvey’s; the ring that was nearly fifteen years in the making, even when it felt like it would never be, “I can never go back to the way I was before.”

He looks at her in awe, a devotion and longing in his eyes that for so long was so intangible that it’s still hard to believe that they’re _here_ ; two decades into a job proposition made in a crowded bar, with rings on their fingers, a baby that they made beside them, and enough love to last a lifetime woven in-between. 

“You changed me, you changed my life, Donna. I meant it then and somehow, I mean it even more now.”

“I love you, Harvey Specter.”

Harvey’s fingers reach for her cheek once more as he brushes the tears away, “I love you, Donna Paulsen-Specter.”

“By the superpowers, uh, given to me by… Mommy and Daddy,” their five year old squeals, “I now announce—“

“Pronounce.”

“ _Pronounce_ you husband and wife!” she turns to Harvey in an almost hushed tone, “Daddy, you can kiss Mommy now.”

Harvey laughs but obliges, hands finding Donna’s waist as one of hers meets the nape of his neck and settles in his hair. 

—

“She didn’t make it,” Harvey chuckles, lips pressed against Donna’s temple. The clock reads two minutes until midnight and the countdown on TV has begun, but their girl is out cold on the couch next to them, a tangled mess of red curls covering her closed eyes with the stuffed _Curious George_ Mike gave her tucked under her arm. 

“I told you she wouldn’t.”

“Maybe next year.”

“Mmhmm. Maybe.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

She can feel his smile against the top of her head, his fingers aimlessly toying with the ring on her own, “For saying yes. For marrying me again.”

  
“I’ll _always_ say yes, Harvey.”

They sit quietly; Donna’s back against Harvey’s chest with his arms around her until the final ten seconds of the countdown emerge, heads turned and mouths meeting at zero. The kiss is soft, slow, intimate, and familiar because they’ve done this for years now, — with a hardly there baby bump, a clingy five month old, or a feverish three year old between them — each year and each kiss a promise of forever that they intend to keep ten-fold, and much longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Find me at donnaandharvey on twitter.
> 
> The ship is Robin Scorpio-Drake and Patrick Drake (“Scrubs”) from General Hospital and you can find the scene that spawned this fic here: https://youtu.be/4-Iv9Pp9pUQ


End file.
